


A Look Of Agony

by tinymacaroni



Series: Witcher smut [5]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Coming Untouched, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Sharing Clothes, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, no beta we die like renfri, possessive geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25779040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinymacaroni/pseuds/tinymacaroni
Summary: Jaskier steals Geralt's jacket for a gig, and Geralt finds this hot as fuck. Also the title is from an Emily Dickinson poem, there's not any actual agony, I just love her poem about orgasms.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher smut [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660198
Comments: 6
Kudos: 404





	A Look Of Agony

Geralt wasn't possessive, per se, but there was something about seeing Jaskier on stage wearing his jacket that made his heart race and his pants uncomfortably tight. The way it hung loose around his shoulders, designed for someone much bulkier than he. The way it completed the outfit, as if he had coordinated the ensemble knowing he would be able to take something of Geralt's. The simple fact that it was Geralt's, and now it was Jaskier's as well. He sat at the bar, away from the lights and the crowd closer to the stage, but he watched Jaskier intently and he was certain they made eye contact more than a few times. He saw a hunger in the singer's eyes that made him want to fuck him right then and there, for the whole bar to see if they wanted, he didn't care. He gripped his glass a little harder, bringing it to his lips and downing the last of the ale in one gulp, trying to focus on anything besides the tight fit of Jaskier's maroon pants or the brown hair trailing down his stomach, visible under his cropped white shirt. Fuck. Geralt needed some air.

He pushed a small wad of bills to the bartender and went out back, dropping his glass into a bus tub on his way. He leaned up against the grimy wall, head thudding against the brick as it fell backwards. He willed his pulse to slow, his breathing to return to normal, but to no avail. Jaskier often had that effect on him, and it was damned irritating - and what was more irritating, was he also found it really fucking hot. Everything about Jaskier was attractive, even his stupid jokes and his terrible off-the-cuff lines of song and the way he always managed to start fights that Geralt had to finish. Everything was hot, or beautiful, or endearing, and Geralt could feel himself falling for him hard, had felt it for a while, but he didn't want to ruin...whatever it was they had together. So, he did what he always did: kept his feelings to himself.

Sighing and gathering his resolve, he went back inside to catch the last fifteen minutes or so of the set. He tried to lose himself in his drink or the sound of the music, but all he could feel were Jaskier's eyes on him and the rising heat in his veins.

\--

After the set was over and the band had packed away their instruments, Jaskier found Geralt outside, waiting for him. He shouldered his guitar case and said his goodbyes to his bandmates before coming over to stand beside the witcher. "So? How was my performance?"

"It was fine," Geralt said with a shrug, though they both knew he meant he enjoyed it. "C'mon, little lark - are you staying over again tonight?"

"If I may impose upon your hospitality again, I would appreciate it immensely." Geralt snorted, amused, and began walking to his truck, nodding for Jaskier to follow him.

Geralt's truck - an old thing, more rust than white paint, which he affectionately called Roach - was sitting at the edge of the parking lot, right where Geralt always parked, and Jaskier shook his head a little at the endearing habit as he followed the witcher. He placed his guitar carefully into the back of the truck before hoisting himself up into the cab. He propped a foot up against the dashboard, leaning back into his seat and sighing.

"Haven't I told you not to do that before?"

"Probably," Jaskier shrugged with a grin.

Geralt rolled his eyes and shook his head, but dropped the subject - this was a fight he knew he would never win, and it didn't actually bother him enough to make a fuss over, but it was a routine between them at this point. He put the truck into gear and pulled out of the parking lot, settling comfortably into the familiarity as Jaskier began to fill the silence between them with stories about his day and how he felt the show went and whatever else he chose. Jaskier was happy to talk, and Geralt was happy to listen.

Eventually they pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building and the talking stopped, if only briefly, as they got out of the truck. Jaskier stretched and yawned when he got out, arms reaching high, pulling his already cropped shirt higher on his stomach and bunching the too-large sleeves of his jacket - Geralt's jacket - around his shoulders. Geralt allowed himself to stare for just a moment, turning away before Jaskier opened his eyes.

They took the stairs up to the apartment in companionable silence, and Geralt tried not to think too hard about the way his heavy leather jacket looked on Jaskier's slender frame, and Jaskier tried not to think too hard about how achingly close and yet insurmountably far away Geralt was. They got inside, Jaskier toeing off his shoes, Geralt sitting down to unlace his boots. Jaskier walked over to the couch - still set up just as he'd left it that morning - and sat down, setting his bag on the floor next to him.

"I'm pretty tired, so I guess I'll just go to sleep? Oh, and here, sorry I took it this morning, I was in a rush-" Jaskier began taking the jacket off, but stopped when Geralt wrapped a hand around his wrist. "Geralt?"

The witcher, for his part, looked down at his hand as if not realizing he had moved it at all, and let go of Jaskier awkwardly. "Sorry."

"Is there...something you wanted to say?" Jaskier raised an eyebrow, hardly daring to hope this was going where he thought it was going.

"Just, er...you can keep the jacket on. If you want." Geralt seemed intent on not meeting Jaskier's eyes.

"I mean I'm not planning to sleep in it, it's a bit bulky for that. Unless there's... something you want to be doing besides sleep?" Jaskier slid closer to Geralt on the couch, hand resting just next to his thigh, heart thudding in his chest as he hoped to the gods he wasn't wildly misinterpreting the situation. Luckily, it didn't seem like he was, as right that moment Geralt leaned forward to cup his jaw, kissing him hesitantly, testing the waters, but with an insistent hunger he was barely holding back. Jaskier immediately responded, rising desperately into the kiss, pressing Geralt's shoulders back against the couch and straddling his lap, tangling his hands in the long white strands of his hair.

"Do you know," he murmured as he pulled back just enough to catch his breath. "How long I've wanted to do this?"

"Should have stolen my jacket sooner," Geralt breathed against his skin, moving to press a kiss against his jaw.

"Kinky," Jaskier laughed, then gasped as Geralt's teeth sank into the flesh of his throat, sucking a deep bruise there. He ground his hips down against Geralt, pleased to find the witcher just as hard as he was, and moaned when he pressed soft kisses against the tender, bruised flesh. "Oh, oh do that again."

Geralt obeyed the demand, sucking bruises down his throat and soothing them with a gentle press of his lips, until Jaskier was grinding rhythmically against him and his eyes had fluttered shut. He kissed the hollow of his throat when he got there, then stood, picking Jaskier up easily, much to the singer's surprise. He carried him down the hall to the bedroom, tossing him down onto the bed and moving to lie on top of him. His pupils were blown wide as he stared up at Geralt, the black almost obscuring the soft blue of his irises.

"That," he choked out, "was unfairly hot."

"Consider it payback," he said with a smirk, tugging on a corner of the jacket lightly. He pushed the two sides of the jacket until it lay entirely open, leaning down to kiss him as he slid one palm up over Jaskier's stomach, rucking his shirt up as he grazed a thumb over a peaked nipple. Jaskier whined into the kiss, hands coming up to grip Geralt's shoulders, fingertips digging into the hard muscle as Geralt lazily ran his thumb in circles over the sensitive flesh, then moved his hand and gave the other one the same treatment. He rolled his hips, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his cock - today was not the day to have worn skinny jeans, he mused briefly.

Geralt felt him hard against his thigh and pressed down, eliciting a noise that fell somewhere between a moan and a whimper. He grinned wolfishly, moving to kneel on the floor, tugging Jaskier's hips until they reached the edge of the bed. Jaskier propped himself up on his elbows, desperate to see the witcher, watching as he slowly undid the zipper on Jaskier's burgundy jeans, pulling them over his hips and down his legs until they fell in a heap to the floor.

"I feel I must warn you that while I usually last quite a reasonable time and satisfy most people I sleep with, if you put your mouth on me now it is not going to take me long to come." Jaskier always babbled when he was nervous, but he couldn't find it in himself to care just now.

"Good," Geralt all but growled, tugging Jaskier's briefs down as well and smiling at the way his cock jumped at the witcher's low voice. He wrapped a hand around Jaskier's cock, using his thumb to swipe at the precome already leaking from the tip, and licked a slow, broad stripe up his length, earning a loud groan from above him. Jaskier pushed himself up to a sitting position, not wanting to miss a moment of this. He ran a hand through Geralt's silky white hair, his fingers tightening abruptly as he felt Geralt move lower, kissing the base of his cock, lapping lightly as balls, before finally pressing close and swirling his tongue over Jaskier's hole.

"Oh, fuck," he breathed as his head fell back, his one hand twisting in Geralt's hair and his other reaching to grip his jaw, his shoulder, anything to try and steady himself. Geralt continued to stroke his cock as he ate him out, pressing his tongue in and grinning against sensitive skin when he could feel Jaskier's hips buck and twist under his ministrations. He carefully slid a finger alongside his tongue, then another, and it only took a single upward curl of his fingers to have Jaskier coming with a shout, hand grasping almost painfully at Geralt's hair as ropes of come shot over his torso, landing on his stomach, his chest, and even a little on his chin. Geralt sat up, looking Jaskier in the eye as he licked the musician's spend off his hand, and Jaskier was certain he felt his soul leave this mortal coil for just a moment.

"Where on earth did you get to be so good at that?" Jaskier was flat on his back now, boneless and twitching a little with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

"I've been alive for nearly a century - you pick up a few tricks here and there."

"Apparently!" Jaskier groaned as he moved to sit up, trying to reach for the witcher but succeeding only in grabbing at thin air. "C'mon, your turn. I won't have it said I'm a selfish lover."

"Hmm. Think you could go another round?" Geralt moved to lay on top of Jaskier again, nipping and licking at his neck, scenting his intoxicating arousal.

"That really depends on what you'd have me do during this hypothetical second round."

"Wanna fuck you. Wanna fuck you so hard you can't walk tomorrow." Jaskier groaned as his spent cock gave a valiant twitch at the mental image, and he shivered below Geralt's massive frame.

"I-I think I could manage something along those lines, yes."

"Good." Geralt rolled over to the side, swinging his legs around and standing up. He grabbed a bottle of lube from his nighstand drawer and tossed it to Jaskier, who gave him a questioning look. "I want to watch you get ready." The matter-of-fact tone made Jaskier shiver, and he was eager to comply, except-

"I have to take the jacket off if you want me to do this properly." While the leather was old and soft, and the jacket was too big for him, it still didn't have enough give to let him reach between his legs the way he needed to.

"...Can you take just one arm out?"

"Again, kinky. I can try though." Jaskier wormed one arm out of a sleeve, his other arm resting above his head as he spread his legs and slipped a slick finger into himself with a sharp inhale.

"Hey, when was the la-" Geralt broke off as he turned, eyes falling on Jaskier's stretched out form, still half-draped in his own jacket, eyes closed and cheeks flushed, lower lip trapped between his teeth as he fucked into himself.

"What was that, dear?" He opened one eye to look up at Geralt, wiggling his hips smugly when he saw the effect he'd had on the normally stoic witcher. "Godsdamn, you really do love seeing me in this jacket don't you? Is it the leather?"

"It's mine. Makes you mine." Geralt's voice took on a possessive growl that left Jaskier whimpering as he added a second finger, moving faster, desperate and needy. Geralt regained his composure much faster than Jaskier, though, which really wasn't fair in the slightest. "When did you last get tested?"

"Ah... a month ago? Two? I haven't - ngh - had any partners since then, though. Should be - hah - in the clear."

"Do you want me to use a condom?"

"Gods, no, I want to feel you. I want you to get your ass over here and fuck me." Jaskier was three fingers deep now, pulling them apart and stretching himself a little faster than he probably ought to, but he was done waiting for this. He glowered petulantly when Geralt chuckled at the needy breathiness in his voice, but luckily the witcher seemed to be nearly as impatient as he was - just better at hiding it. His eyes were dark, though, pupils blown wide with arousal as he moved to kneel between Jaskier's legs. His cock was already wet with precome, and Jaskier felt like drooling at the sight of it.

"Ready?"

"Should be." Jaskier pulled his hand away, grabbing the bottle of lube and handing it to Geralt. The witcher added some slick to his cock, and Jaskier let his head fall back and his eyes slip close as he felt the blunt, wet head of Geralt's cock press into him. "Oh, fuck."

"Shit, you're tight." Geralt braced one arm above Jaskier's head, the other holding his hip for leverage as he pushed further in. He was sure he wouldn't last, but from the noises Jaskier was making, he wasn't likely to last long either. He opened his eyes as he seated himself fully in the musician, checking the face below him for any signs of discomfort. "You okay?"

"Perfect." 

Geralt huffed a laugh, leaning down to capture Jaskier's lips in his own as he began to move, swallowing every tantalizing noise he made as Geralt fucked into him faster and harder. Jaskier could feel the beginnings of a second orgasm stirring deep in his gut and he squirmed and panted as Geralt's thick cock kept him right on that edge of almost-too-much; he was so godsdamned full and he had been dreaming of this for years, really, ever since he met Geralt. He made a truly undignified sound as Geralt shifted to nip at his throat, at the same time adjusting the angle to drag hard and heavy over his prostate with every thrust.

"You're going to be the death of me. I'm going to die here, and it will be perfect."

"You'll only die a little. And besides, I like a look of agony," Geralt murmured against flushed skin.

"You've been stealing my - oh, fuck, right there - my poetry books again haven't you?"

"Yeah, yeah. You got a witcher to like Dickinson, it's not that hard. Half her poems are about death."

"Ooh, yes. Keep talking about - hah - poetry and literature, you know that does it for me."

"You're a prat, little lark. You know that?" Geralt punctuated his teasing with a particularly strong thrust that left Jaskier gasping for breath, back arched off the bed.

"Oh, fuck, do that again- yes, just like that, oh fuck, please Geralt-" Jaskier's usually-vast vocabulary was quickly shrinking to curses, pleas, and Geralt's name as the heat in his gut coiled tighter, legs wrapping around Geralt's, tugging him closer.

Geralt reached up a little further with the hand braced above Jaskier's head, taking his hand and linking their fingers as he felt Jaskier begin to tremble beneath him. "Come on, little lark," he whispered against Jaskier's ear. "Come for me."

"Oh, Geralt," Jaskier sighed as he came for the second time that night, half as much as the first time but twice as powerful.

Geralt felt Jaskier's ass tighten around him and knew it wouldn't be long now before he followed Jaskier over that edge, and he fucked faster into that tight, wet heat. It only took him a few more thrusts before he was coming inside Jaskier, who curled in on himself and nearly shouted when he felt Geralt spill into him, hot and perfect as he came down from his own orgasm.

Geralt was panting as he let himself fall gently onto Jaskier, too caught up in the afterglow to care how sticky they both were right now, but not too caught up to check in. "You still okay?"

"Yes, fuck, I am so much better than okay right now. Your cock is perfect, Geralt, and I never want another cock inside me. You've ruined me for all other cocks."

"Good. You're mine."

"That I most certainly am, my dear wolf." Jaskier ran a hand idly up and down Geralt's spine, recounting stories he knew by heart as his fingers found bumps and ridges of scar tissue on the witcher's skin. As warm as the witcher was, though, the thin sheen of sweat that had built on Jaskier's skin was beginning to make him cold, so he sat up and pushed Geralt to the side a little. "Be a dear and grab a wet washcloth for me?"

"Mm." Geralt took his sweet time about it, slow and sleepy in his post-sex haze, but he got up and got a washcloth damp with hot water. He cleaned Jaskier up with a tenderness that made the musician ache, and when he was done he curled up beside Jaskier and pulled a thick blanket up over them both. "Sleep?"

"Sounds like a lovely idea, darling." Jaskier kissed the top of the witcher's head as they settled into bed together, Geralt reaching past Jaskier for just a moment to turn the lamp off with a click before burrowing against Jaskier's strong, almost furry chest. It was nice, for once, to be the one being held.


End file.
